


In The Beginning

by egglorru



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Convergent, Gen, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 02:37:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15160631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/egglorru/pseuds/egglorru
Summary: “Jealousy had ruined Ronan for the first several months of Adam’s introduction into their group.” - Blue Lily, Lily Blue Ch. 18





	In The Beginning

Ronan was used to Gansey being generally chummy with the population of Aglionby, patting a shoulder here, talking with a rowing team member there, accepting a newspaper clipping from a teacher and expressing delight as he skimmed it and tucked it in his journal like it was important, no matter if it was irrelevant to his Glendower search or he’d already clipped the article himself a month ago.

But this.

This was not the same. The new kid – Parrish - and Gansey were chatting animatedly and Gansey had his journal open, indicating something in it for Parrish to read as they walked through the door. There was a level of enthusiasm there that made Ronan glare suspiciously.

When Gansey sat next to him, he paused the conversation with an excuse me, asked Byers behind him if Parrish could have that seat for the period, and of course Byers hopped right up, anything for Gansey. He would have done the same, but he wished Byers would have just refused to change up their seating arrangement. Gansey greeted him while Parrish waited politely for the seat to vacate, and then as soon as Parrish slid into the chair, Gansey twisted in his seat, placing his journal on Parrish’s desk and spinning it around so Parrish could finish reading the page Gansey had it open to.

Hostility churned in Ronan’s gut and Parrish glanced up at the feeling of Ronan’s glower roasting his skin, but before Ronan could open his mouth, Whelk walked through the door and clapped distractingly for attention to begin the lesson.

It was hard to focus, but fuck if he was going to let Parrish usurp his position as best student in Latin, the same way he apparently was trying to worm his way into Gansey’s good graces. Probably latching onto the richest student he could find, the fucking scum. Ronan aggressively answered questions and rudely corrected one of Parrish’s responses to Whelk without being prompted, and pointedly ignored Gansey’s stern look.

When class let out, Parrish was still by Gansey’s side as they stepped into the hall, but he brought his attention to Ronan. “Thanks for correcting me,” he said politely, holding out his hand, intent on a formal introduction. “Adam Parrish.” Ronan gave it nothing more than a glance before bringing his unwelcoming stare back to Parrish’s blue eyes. “I’ve got you in several other classes, I think, but I’ve never seen you in them.”

Ronan felt his face twist into a vicious smirk. “Count yourself lucky you see me as little as you do,” he snarled, stepping closer, a challenge. Parrish did not stiffen, but that made the way he went completely still all the more noticeable. 

“Ronan, don’t be an asshole,” he heard Gansey say disapprovingly, but he didn’t look away from Parrish, whose blank eyes flicked down to Ronan’s fists and back up to his face. Then Parrish lowered his hand to tuck into his pocket as he shifted to his back foot, just out of arms’ reach, too careful to be truly casual.

Ronan nearly snorted at the cowardice, not that he expected more from this hunch-shouldered dust-colored jackass trying to get in good with Ronan’s best friend. But then he caught a flicker under that calm expression, something that told Ronan that Parrish wasn’t backing down. He’d moved automatically to reduce damage, and he wasn’t provoking Ronan, but he would weather whatever Ronan threw at him. That was…interesting.

Ronan scoffed and shouldered past him, calling “see you at Monmouth” to Gansey, who for once didn’t protest him heading for the parking lot instead of his next class.

~~~

Gansey was over an hour late returning to Monmouth after school, and for a brief moment Ronan was worried Parrish had held him up and come with him, here to invade their apartment too. But Gansey was alone and looked rather stressed. Good, maybe he’d realized Parrish was a leeching waste of breath. 

“Good job bringing the trash back where it belongs,” he called out with a smirk to drive the point home. Gansey glanced in confusion at the garbage pile, which was about half the size they usually waited for before carting it to the dump. “It’s also your turn for that trash, I did it last month.”

Gansey’s eyebrows pinched sharply when he caught Ronan’s first meaning. “Ronan. He’s not trash. He’s very intelligent, and he had a lot of good suggestions about the next move for Glendower while I was bringing him…home.”

Ronan snagged onto the hesitation. “He lives in a trailer, doesn’t he.”

Gansey gave a slow nod.

“So he’s trailer trash.”

“ _Ronan_.”

“Call it like it is, Gansey.”

Gansey elected to ignore him. “His father doesn’t want him going to Aglionby. I don’t get it, he’s not paying for it. Parrish has three jobs and a scholarship, it’s not hurting his father, but his father was so mad he was spitting as he yelled at me. He said we were ruining Parrish’s ‘good honest roots’ and making him a…’soft rich fucker’ like me.”

“Ha!” Ronan crowed, “Someone else calling it like it is.” He elbowed Gansey good-naturedly. “Let’s find Noah and hit up Nino’s,  _S.R.F._ ”

~~~

The next day, Ronan arrived at Borden House just in time to see Parrish slide into the chair behind Gansey again. Fuck, he might actually have to fight the worthless little shit off. He certainly didn’t mind fighting in the least, but Parrish’s thin frame and braced posture didn’t look like much of a contest.

Parrish looked up as Ronan carelessly dropped his bag on the floor and himself into his seat, and spared Ronan a polite nod that was rendered cold by the caution in his eyes. Good.

Parrish was quiet that day compared to most days in Latin class, taking slow, brief notes and keeping his eyes down. The way he moved his arm as he wrote was almost annoyingly careful. Ronan told himself to quit looking, but Parrish sent him several quiet glances that quickly flicked away from his stares, and Parrish being scared was a good thing.

At one point, Parrish raised his hand automatically to ask a question and the way he stiffened subtly at the motion drew Ronan’s attention to him again. There, just peeking out of the sleeve of his sweater, was a very dark, fresh bruise.

No wonder he was writing so carefully. That had to have hurt.

The next time Parrish moved to ask a question, he raised his other hand.

After class, Ronan pushed between Gansey and Parrish, crowding Parrish quickly into the hall. He wouldn’t fight Parrish while the runt was handicapped with a sprained wrist, but his words would do. “I’m heading back to Monmouth. Make sure not to feed any money to the broke stray, Gansey, or he’ll never leave.” 

“ _RONAN—_ ” Came from behind him, but he just knocked his shoulder against Parrish’s the same as he had the day before. This time, Parrish hissed audibly and took a quick step back.

Ronan nearly paused. Clearly the bruising went much further than he’d thought – what had caused that? – but ultimately, he didn’t care. He squelched the thread of guilt at damaging an injured kid and kept walking. He wouldn’t fight Parrish physically, but surely the trailer trash would get the message and fuck off soon.

~~~

Parrish did not fuck off in any kind of a timely fashion. It turned into weeks. He maintained a physical distance from Ronan and a cool, polite attitude, clearly putting up with him only for Gansey’s sake. He invaded Monmouth two weeks into his new friendship with Gansey – apparently jobs ate up almost all of his after school time, thank fucking God – and a month in, Gansey offered for him to move in.

Ronan had reared up, ready to strike, but Parrish had beaten him to it, turning Gansey down forcefully. Gansey made a good argument about the distance from Parrish’s house to Aglionby, and then in the midst of a self-depreciatory joke about the kitchen-bathroom-laundry made the mistake of saying Monmouth’s amenities must still be better than Parrish’s trailer.

Apparently Parrish was the kind of arguer who made his point – “I won’t even list all the reasons that is an offensive and also stupid idea” – while implying with his glance that Ronan was the problem even though clearly there were other issues warring in his eyes, and then emphasized it with chilly silence. Parrish still sat behind Gansey, but was dead silent except to the teacher for almost a week.

Ronan gave no shits. It was a prime opportunity to beat Parrish to hell and back and make him get the fuck away from Gansey or out of Aglionby or both, but the second his arm looked healed up, Ronan noticed a slight limp and another bruise, this time on the other wrist, so he had to put it off a second time. He continued to verbally attack Parrish in front of him as well as back at Monmouth, reminding Gansey at every opportunity that the trailer trash was probably there for handouts.

Somehow, despite all Ronan’s help, the dust child made up with Gansey, and Parrish never even dignified him with a reaction to his threats and accusations. Then the first time he heard Gansey say “Adam”, he took up calling Parrish “Poor Boy”, because “once you name it, Gansey, you get attached to it. It’s not too late for you, and  _I’m_ definitely not making that mistake.”

Parrish’s calm demeanor was clearly starting to fray, just like the shoulder of his pathetic second-hand sweater. A couple weeks of endurance later, Ronan asked Parrish pointedly if he’d actually found an Aglionby sweater at the Goodwill or if Administration had handed him the patch to sew onto the next best sweater he could afford, and he was  _so close_. He glanced at the way Parrish’s jaw clenched and the way his faded green bruise peeked just above his clenched fist and thought  _if he comes at me he’s healed up enough to take a beating_.

Parrish turned around and walked away, and Gansey, with a very irritated glance at Ronan, jogged to him and offered him a ride home. Parrish had been refusing rides after that first one, but with a barely-there glance at Ronan, he accepted today, clearly enjoying usurping Gansey’s attention. Motherfucking little prick was way too full of himself.

Tomorrow, Ronan promised himself. Tomorrow he was getting rid of the trash, since Gansey wouldn’t.

~~~

The next day, Parrish wasn’t in school. It was too good to hope for, wasn’t it.

The following day, Parrish had an almost impressively nasty black eye. Ronan didn’t miss the way Gansey’s eyes flicked to him, and he rolled his own in return, as if he wasn’t planning on beating the fucker up himself. He wouldn’t take credit where it wasn’t due.

Whelk asked Parrish something quietly near the chalkboard, and Ronan caught “private matter” and “already spoken with Administration” in return. Whelk shrugged, unconcerned so long as the fight hadn’t happened on school grounds, apparently, and Parrish took two steps past the desk behind Gansey toward the back where he used to sit, then rolled his shoulders back and sat behind Gansey as he had been for two months now.

Shit, his refusal to back down made Ronan respect him more than he deserved. And shit  _damn_ , Ronan was getting used to him sitting nearby. Seeing him walk past that desk had been weird.

~~~

Well, again, he couldn’t fight an injured Parrish, but his words were always good weapons. “So what’s up with the bruises, Poor Boy? Daddy issues?” They had to have come from home. Both times his apparently furious father had seen Gansey drop him at home, he’d come to school injured.

Parrish paused in the hall, then turned back around very slowly. He worked his jaw, clearly considering his response, and then, very quietly, he said, “Fuck you, Lynch. My “daddy” hates this school and I’m not here on “daddy’s” money” – his eyes flicked, deliberately and disdainfully, over Ronan’s person – “But. By. My. Own. Goddamn. Merit.” It was his puncturing emphasis that gave the words a sharp bite, not his curses. “And if  _he_ can’t stop me coming to this school and being friends with whom I want, then  _you_ certainly can’t.”

And then he walked away without another word. Ronan stared after him, unfairly impressed yet again at the unprovoking, steadfast boldness to Adam Parrish. He would weather through and overcome anything anyone threw at him, including Ronan. And, well. Gansey hadn’t swapped Ronan for Parrish when they went ley line hunting the previous weekend; he’d brought them both along. And Parrish had gotten the Pig started against significant odds on the way back. And he was starting to get used to the runt being around outside of Latin.

That night, he had the weirdest fucking dream. Parrish was in his forest, as fluent in Latin as the trees themselves, and when Ronan tried clumsily to tell him to get the fuck out, he just arched an eyebrow into that elegantly disdainful look he’d given Ronan at school.

It made Ronan want to impress him.

What the fuck.

~~~

The next day, he told Parrish he’d teach him how to fight. Clearly Parrish needed help against his father.

And Parrish refused – staunchly, even while expressing cautious appreciation for the offer. He was a whip-thin tree torn leafless by a storm, but he was clinging stubbornly to his roots, determined to survive the soil he’d grown out of by his own power. Even if it looked dead as his eyes and tired and bent as his shoulders and broken as the skin around his eye, this tree was fighting through endurance. And fuck if that wasn’t impressive. Shit damn, it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“It’s an open offer,” he grunted, which really meant  _I guess you’re sticking around, huh_.

“Thanks,” said Parrish quietly, which really meant  _I guess we have to be friends now_.


End file.
